


It's Raining Chocolate

by floofboy



Category: Senyuu. (Anime & Manga)
Genre: (literally), Alba just wants to see Ros happy, Fluff, M/M, Ros just wants to see Alba happy, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, it's a match made in heaven
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2019-08-13
Packaged: 2020-08-20 20:56:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20234236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/floofboy/pseuds/floofboy
Summary: The only person to blame for Alba's empty wallet is Ros. It's not Alba's fault that Ros ordered the most expensive treat in the café. It's not Alba's fault that Ros loves sweets so much. It's not Alba's fault that Ros' smile is so endearing.(That's a lie- it's all Alba's fault for being so weak for Ros, and both of them know it.)





	It's Raining Chocolate

**Author's Note:**

> this is just 5k words of albatross eating sweets and also some cecily at the end because I love having her square off against alba's possessiveness more at ten.

Alba can only vaguely remember the first time he saw Ros eat something sweet, and regrets every day that his younger self hadn’t the sense to appreciate it properly. 

But he supposes he couldn’t blame him. It hadn’t been long since they left the castle when it happened- Alba’s impression of Ros at that point was mostly negative. It would take months more for him to actually fall for the soldier. 

Still, thinking back through his hazy memory, Alba can still more-or-less picture Ros’ bright, cheerful expression at trying ice cream for the first time. 

Cute.

So cute. 

That first year they spent together, as they journeyed to “defeat the Demon Lord”, Ros was in full sadistic mode. Prickly, violent, and caustic. 

(It probably said something about Alba that he first fell in love with that sadistic soldier, violence and all.)

But even Ros-as-Soldier had softened when it came to sweets, and maybe it was that discrepancy that made Alba clench his fists even today and think-

_Cute. _

* * *

Alba has been on a continuous journey to prove to Ros that he didn’t need his help anymore. 

The journey is, of course, continuous due to his continuous failures.

But he can’t give up, because he needs Ros to see him as reliable and independent. 

(He needs Ros to see him as a romantic interest, and not some pathetic kid who still needs to be protected.)

His latest failure is managing the research center without Ros- though in his defense, Alba had genuinely tried. He went out and hired part-time workers all on his own and everything! It wasn’t his fault that the most capable of them turned out to be not-so-great outside of work. 

(Alba isn’t sure what Kanpachi did to Ros to make the other hero punch him out, but he doesn’t particularly care. 

If he ever sees Kanpachi again, _he’ll _punch him out for putting such an anguished look on Ros’ face.)

And it definitely can’t be helped that he needs someone to fill in the gap that Kanpachi left. Or that Ros was conveniently there and responsible for Kanpachi disappearing. There was only one possible option, and that was Ros coming to work with him. 

Definitely. 

(He doesn’t know who he’s fooling, but it’s definitely not himself.)

But Alba can’t bring himself to regret it, not when he successfully sets Ros’ desk right in front of his with the flimsy excuse of “so you can ask me questions when you need to.” And after a week being drilled by Alba in the basics of spreadsheeting, Ros doesn’t even question it. 

It’s pure bliss being able to peek around his monitor to see Ros’ face, usually contorted into a scowl at whatever he’s struggling with on the screen. By his rough estimate, Alba ends up five times as productive, but only actually works for half the time. The math works out to getting more work done in the end though, so he figures it’s fine. 

But, as always, it’s the sweets that get him. 

He isn’t thinking about that at all though, when he declares the work day over and as they’re leaving the research center, coughs loudly. 

“Do you want to grab dinner tonight?” he asks. 

“Are you paying?”

“No!” sputters Alba. 

“Hmm.” Ros puts a hand on his chin, the contemplation floating up onto Ros’ face obviously fake. It’s extremely irritating. 

But then Ros smiles at Alba, and his irritation gusts away like the wind. 

Alba was so weak. 

“Alright, let’s go.” Ros decides. “So where are we going?”

They end up grabbing sandwiches from a bakery in the town nearby, and since it’s summertime and wouldn’t be dark out for hours yet, polish them off on a bench outside. 

Things go well up until that point.

The problem arises after that, when they get up and start heading back home. 

The problem arises when they pass by an ice cream cart. 

Ros’ eyes suddenly gluing onto something in the distance is the first sign. Alba follows his gaze, opens his mouth to ask what he was looking at, then immediately closes it because he figures it out. 

It’s an ice cream cart, wooden with a cheery owner standing behind it. 

He shouldn’t. 

If he gave an inch, Ros would take a mile. 

So he really shouldn’t. 

But he remembers Ros’ lovely smiles, and so even while feeling ashamed at himself, he speaks up. 

“Ros, uh.” Alba stammers, “Wanna get ice cream?” He coughs again. “I’ll treat you.”

Ros’ entire face lights up, and Alba already feels like his heart is going to burst from his chest. 

“So you _can_ say nice things sometimes, Hero,” says Ros happily, and drags Alba over to the cart at double speed. 

There’s no line, the weather being a bit gloomy for ice cream even if it weren’t a little late in the evening, and so the owner immediately looks down at them with a wide grin and asks, “What would you like today? Three hundred yen for a single scoop.”

“What’s the most expensive thing you offer?” Ros immediately asks back, and Alba chokes. 

“Don’t you usually hold back a little when someone else is treating you?!” he sputters. 

“Huh? What are you saying, Hero?” Ros turns an endearingly beaming gaze at Alba. “Since when have I held back around you?”

“Urgh…” 

They leave the cart with Ros holding a triple-scoop waffle cone and Alba’s wallet noticeably lighter. 

He has no one to blame but himself, but he still lets out a gusty sigh. 

“Thanks, Hero,” Ros says cheerily - ignoring the sigh - then takes a generous lick of his treat. 

Ros’ face immediately melts into contentment, and Alba’s heart skips a beat, his face feeling a little warm. 

It was really unfair of Ros to look _that _happy when eating sweets. How was he ever supposed to resist? 

“It’s still so good,” Ros says, letting out a pleased hum. His tongue darts out again to lick at the cone, and Alba swallows, following the movement. 

Alba forces his gaze to the side, before Ros notices his staring and no doubt accuses him of being a pervert. 

(No matter how spot-on the accusation might be for once.)

“Well, as long as you like it,” Alba mumbles. 

“Of course!” Ros declares cheerfully. “It’s the taste of your wasted money, after all.”

“Urgh…”

“You might as well have gotten yourself one as well.”

Alba waves a hand dismissively. “I didn’t need one.”

He wasn’t that much of a sweets fan anyways, and the weather was too cloudy for him to really enjoy a whole ice cream cone by himself. 

A moment of silence, and then there’s a cone thrust in front of his face. 

Alba blinks at it in confusion. “Ros…?”

“Have a little at least,” Ros offers. “Just one lick though.” 

Alba narrows his eyes. He doesn’t _think _Ros had the chance to do anything, but… “Did you put something in it?”

“I wouldn’t do that to ice cream,” Ros says, sounding offended. 

Alba does suppose that Ros has never spiked his desserts with anything, only his actual meals. 

(If he had to pick one, he would’ve preferred Ros spiking his desserts though…)

He really isn’t in the mood for ice cream, but he isn’t going to say no to Ros offering him something for once. 

“Thanks,” he says, and leans forwards, half-expecting Ros to jerk the cone out of his reach. 

But surprisingly, Ros keeps the cone steady, and Alba gets a good scrape of it in his mouth. It’s cool and sweet, but nothing special- about what he expected. As he swallows, Ros brings his cone back. 

“Was it good?” Ros asks. 

“I mean, it was okay,” Alba says truthfully. 

Ros smiles, face beaming. “I hope you enjoyed it, because I’m not giving you any more.” He takes another lick of the cone and swallows. “Regret not getting one for yourself.”

“Ha ha ha…” Alba says drolly. So that was Ros’ game. 

The joke’s on Ros though, because Ros’ cheery mood and cheerier expression gives Alba a bubbly, floating feeling in his chest far better than anything an ice cream cone could do for him. 

Alba smiles all-too-fondly.

(Luckily, unluckily, Ros is too engrossed to notice.)

* * *

It becomes a thing after that. 

Of course it does. 

(Alba, as always, is weak for Ros.)

Both of them are expected back home for dinner most days of the week, dinner being an easy time to reconnect with semi- (for Alba) or completely (for Ros) estranged family. And besides, a healthy home-cooked meal wasn’t something either of them would want to pass up too often. 

But some days, when they want a break from stilted family conversations or (at least Alba hopes) just want to spend more time with each other, they go out for dinner together, the two of them alone. 

Lunch is usually a group affair after all, Lake and Salt and Elf and Alf, Lym when she can take a break from her demon lord business, all eating together. And it’s usually fun, Alba isn’t saying he dislikes it, but-

Ros is special. And time with him alone is special. 

So he treasures the dinners because he treasures Ros, and maybe that’s why he can’t help but treat him all the time. Desserts at the restaurant, or maybe bubble tea after their meal, or even egg tarts to bring home. 

But, he tries to justify to himself. Maybe this would help make Ros see him as an independent adult now, even if he had failed in his quest to stop clinging to his old soldier. Having enough disposable income to treat Ros to sweets all the time, hell, to hire Ros at his own research center- that was pretty adult, right?

...He doesn’t know who he’s fooling, again. It’s not like Ros ever hesitated in mooching off of him even when Alba was only sixteen. 

Still, he doesn’t stop, can’t stop, because no matter how often he treats him, Ros still looks so very happy when it happens. 

Like when Alba orders a slice of cake for him at a restaurant, and Ros’ eyes light up. 

“The food in this era is really something else,” Ros exclaims, delighted, as he cuts himself another thin piece of the cake. He swallows it slowly, looking like he’s savouring it. 

“You always say that,” Alba says, but his tone is more amused than annoyed. 

“Because it’s true,” retorts Ros. He jabs his fork down, rips out a generous piece of the slice, and stabs his fork out towards Alba. “Try it, Hero- I’m sure even _you’ll _admit it’s amazing.”

“Alright, alright.” Alba leans forwards, closes his mouth around the fork and slides the piece off and into his mouth. He leans back and chews, contemplative. 

He’s sure it’s good, it’s just- he can’t hold back a slight grimace. It’s too sweet for him. 

He says as much. 

“You really have no taste, do you, Hero?” Ros says scathingly, and Alba just laughs awkwardly. 

Ros rolls his eyes, looking put out, but the moment he takes another bite of the cake, his expression softens again. 

(Alba wonders, vaguely, whether he should start carrying around sweets to shear off the edges from Ros’ bad moods.)

Another time, Alba brings Ros muffins filled with sweet apple filling for breakfast, and Ros stares at him as though he thought Alba had hung up the sun in the sky that morning. 

“These are from that bayside bakery, right,” Ros says, voice hushed as he accepts the thin cardboard box of a half-dozen. 

“Yeah.” Alba nods. “They’re having a sale this week, so I thought I might as well.”

“Hero, I appreciate this, but…” Ros’ expression darkens, his eyes narrowing dangerously, and Alba jolts. “You didn’t eat breakfast, did you.”

“Um.” 

Alba realizes that the way he averts his gaze, fumbles his fingers, is screaming _How did you know? _even if he didn’t say anything explicitly. But he still doesn’t quite want to vocalize it. 

”A couple days ago, I actually went and got a half-dozen too, for Cecily and Lake and me,” Ros says by way of explanation, tapping on the box. “I had to wait two hours in the morning to get it. No time for food.”

“_Um._”

“Honestly, Hero, you always get so obnoxious by noon when you don’t have breakfast.” Ros flips open the box, takes out a muffin. He orders, “Open your mouth.”

“Wha- mmpgh.”

There’s a whole muffin stuffed into Alba’s mouth the moment he opens it, and as a natural result, he starts to choke. He bends over, desperately chewing - and ah, there’s the apple filling spilling into his mouth - and eventually manages to force the whole thing down. 

He shoots Ros a betrayed look, still half-bent over. 

Ros just smiles down at him, the smile unfairly angelic. There’s a muffin held in his hand as well now, a small bite already taken out of it. 

“Are you an idiot, Hero?” Ros asks. “Take care of your own needs first. You’re just a pain to deal with otherwise.”

He reaches down to flick Alba’s forehead, and so Alba scowls. 

“I can manage without breakfast!” Alba complains, finally straightening back up. 

“You’re so stupid,” Ros tells him without missing a beat, and takes another bite of his muffin. “But well, these muffins _are _really good.” Another smile, soft. “Thanks, Hero.”

Alba takes what he can get, and smiles back. “No problem.”

Ros stays smiling for a beat longer, but then glances at his muffin and back to Alba. 

He looks pensive now. 

“Do you like them, Hero?” asks Ros, and snorts. “Or has your bad taste kicked in again?”

“I don’t have bad taste!” Alba objects, scowling. “But well, I like them. It’s just the overly honeyed and sugary stuff I don’t like.” He shrugs. “I’m fine with fruits.”

Ros hums. 

“I see,” he says simply, then turns to his desk. “C’mon, Hero, let's get to work.”

* * *

They’re not always at work or hanging out together, of course. They have their own things to do. 

And it’s when Alba’s coming back from a grocery run for his mother, paper bags filled with vegetables and grains and meat hoisted up in his arms, that he just so happens to run into Ros and Crea on the street. 

“Ah, Hero,” Ros says brightly, tapping his shoulder from behind. Alba jolts at the sudden sound and sudden touch, his bags teetering dangerously, but somehow manages to regain balance. 

He’s recognized the voice of course, so it’s only with a feeling of amused resignment that he looks behind him. 

“Ros! And Crea-san.”

“Yo, Alba-kun!” Crea waves a hand excitedly. 

The two of them each hold a flat pancake bun in their hands- it’s obvious they were out for a sweets run. 

“Wow!” Ros whistles. “That looks like a lot to carry, Hero!”

“...Help me then?”

Just as expected, Ros only smiles beatifically. “Now, why would I do that?” 

“Sii-tan,” Crea says, sharply disapproving. “We can help you, Alba-kun!”

“Ah, I’m okay.” Alba is quick to reassure. “It’s actually not that heavy, and I’m almost home.”

“Huh?” Crea blinks, head tilting in confusion. “Then why did you ask Sii-tan to help you?”

A pause.

Alba’s face heats up. “Well, uh, I mean…” he trails off into a mumble. “I knew he would say no, I was just, um…”

Ros starts snickering. 

“Shut up, Ros!” Alba snaps, face full-on burning now. 

“Don’t look so angry, Hero,” says Ros, and then there’s something soft and faintly sweet thrown into his mouth. 

Alba clamps his mouth shut, chews, swallows. 

The unexpectedness of it all cools his embarrassment, and Alba just blinks in surprise. “It’s good…”

There’s a flash of something Alba can’t quite make out across Ros’ face before it settles into smugness. 

“It’s a chestnut bun,” Ros explains, “From a bakery stall by the clock tower in the town next over.”

“It’s a little ways away, but I should go sometime…” Alba says, contemplative. It’s rare that there’s a sweet that actually meets his tastes. 

Ros glances to the side, scratches a cheek awkwardly. 

“If you-” he starts, but the sentence is doomed to be never finished. 

“-Wait!” Crea cuts in. “Wait, wait, wait!” He pouts. “Why does Alba-kun get to try your bun but not me?”

Ros scowls. “You have your own.”

“Mine is red bean though,” Crea complains. “I said I’d swap one for one and everything, you bought a whole bunch anyways-”

“-Those weren’t for eating now, that’s why,” interrupts Ros, impatient. 

“So you liked them that much?” Alba says, a touch surprised. He would’ve thought it wasn’t sweet enough for-

“No, they’re too bland,” Ros says with a snort, but then that doesn’t make sense. 

“Huh? But Sii-tan, when you tried one you got really excited and said it was ‘perfect’-”

Ros slams his heel into Crea’s foot, and the other boy chokes in pain, cutting himself off. 

“Crea-san!” Alba exclaims. “Are you okay? What are you doing, Ros?!”

“Shut up,” mutters Ros, face averted. He grabs Crea by the scruff. “We’re going, Crea.”

“Huh? Ah, okay?” Crea waves at Alba as he’s dragged away. “See you around, Alba-kun!”

“See you…?” Alba says tentatively. 

After a moment, Ros glances back too, for the briefest moment, and says, disgruntled, “See you at work, Hero.”

Then he’s facing back forwards, heading off again, but Alba is left with a heavy feeling of _confusion. _

He only got a glimpse of Ros’ face just then, but a glimpse was enough to make one thing clear. 

Ros had been blushing. 

* * *

There’s a box of chestnut-filled pancake buns open in the common area at work when Alba gets there the next morning. 

Alba blinks at it, shrugs, grabs one, then heads on over to his desk. As he expected, Ros is already sitting in the desk across from his, silently tapping out something on his computer. He doesn’t look up as Alba approaches. 

A wide, sly, smug grin spreads across Alba’s face. 

“Ro-o-os,” he says, sing-songy. “What’s this? You just wanted to share the buns with everyone?”

Ros slams a fist onto his desk, and his monitor rattles. He shoots Alba a scathing glare, and Alba is a little taken aback at the intensity. 

“You’re really an idiot,” snaps Ros, then turns his gaze back to his monitor. He taps angrily at his keyboard. 

...Alba is confused again. 

“Um,” Alba says awkwardly. He places the bun in his hand gently onto his desk, then loops around the desks, walks up right next to Ros, and asks, “Did I do something?”

Ros doesn’t look at him, but he answers, “No. You haven’t done _anything_.”

...Alba’s confusion is not dissipating. 

After a few moments more of silence, Ros grits his teeth, then lets out a loud, long-suffering sigh. 

“Ah, whatever,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair. He finally looks up at Alba. There’s a helpless look on his face, but he’s still smiling as he says, “Just enjoy the buns, idiot hero.”

Alba’s still not sure what had Ros in a snit, but he gets the feeling that pushing won’t net him any answers. 

“Okay,” Alba just says.

(The buns are delicious.)

* * *

They’ve never invited each other over for dinner at each other’s houses. It’s a logical extension of all the time they spend together, but perhaps they both just don’t want to ruin things by dragging their family into it. 

Alba knows he doesn’t. 

So it’s Lake, not Ros, who invites him over to dinner one night, on a cool and crisp day in early February. 

“Mom is getting kinda antsy that me and Sii-tan are both spending so much time with you,” Lake explains, looking exhausted. “Especially Sii-tan. It would help if she could get to know you.”

And well, it’s not like Alba can say no to the poor kid when he looks so tired. 

“Tell her I’ll bring dessert,” Alba offers, because it’s still going to be a dinner with Ros. 

Lake brightens. “Okay!”

So a few days later, Alba ends up knocking on their door holding a small platter of cinnamon buns. 

Cecily is a little cautious, a little threatening to him at first.

"Oh, your mother made these?" Cecily says, accepting the platter. "They look lovely!"

"Thank you," Alba says politely.

"There's really nothing better than a home-cooked meal with your family, isn't that right?" Cecily says, voice overly cheery.

Alba laughs amiably. "My mom _is _a good cook."

Cecily's eyes narrow. "How does she feel about you skipping dinner so often?"

A chill settles over his mind, a bristling, possessive feeling he even didn’t know he _had _rising up in him.

_I’ve known Ros for longer than you, _hisses a voice in his mind. _If we want to eat together, that's our business._

But Alba desperately swallows down the thought and just smiles. Smiles vapidly, as he apologizes while promising nothing, and sits down at the table. And while he's no diplomat, making snarky comments about Soldier Ros' ridiculous antics was a lot harder than dealing with Cecil's thinly veiled antagonism, especially with Lake there to back him up and keep the peace. Ros, surprisingly, doesn't even act up. Makes a few mocking comments here and there, but doesn't go out of his way to rile up Alba or even Cecily.

(He should've known something was up from that alone.)

And so by the time they’ve polished off their meals, Cecily is looking calmer, pleased even. Lake is looking utterly relieved at the sight. 

Then Cecily cleans up their dinner plates, brings over the platter of cinnamon buns left on the counter. 

That’s when things start to go awry again. 

“Ah, Hero,” Ros says, grabbing a bun.

He smiles brightly, expectantly, as he rips a piece off of the end and holds it up. At this point, it’s more muscle memory than anything else. Alba opens his mouth obediently, and in pops the chunk of the bun. He chews twice, then swallows. 

“How was it?” Ros asks, and Alba shoots him an unamused look. 

“They’re my mom’s, of course they’re good,” Alba says, rolling his eyes. Then he coughs, and admits, “Though I do prefer her uniced ones.”

“Uniced ones,” Ros says contemplatively, and Alba sees him eyeing the platter again. 

Alba scowls and reaches for the platter. “I can get my own, you kno-” 

A hand whips out and snatches the bun he was reaching for before he can get it. 

His scowl deepens. “Ros…”

“Don’t look so annoyed, Hero,” says Ros, his smile happy and his tone happier. He rips off a chunk of the bun and holds it up. And so with a sigh, Alba leans in and lightly tugs it off and into his mouth. 

He chews twice then swallows. 

“How was it?” Ros asks again. 

“Better,” Alba admits begrudgingly. “But I could’ve still-“

That’s when there’s a loud clatter of cutlery falling down as the table vibrates. 

With some embarrassment, Alba whips his head to the other side of the table he had woefully forgotten about. 

Then he pales a pasty white, because Cecily looks _furious_, half-standing up with her hands slammed on the table. 

(Lake is blushing, averting his eyes, and that’s just as confusing.)

What had happened? Surely she couldn't be _that _mad he got distracted for a bit?

“You…” Cecily hisses, “I won’t let you…”

“Ah, Mom!” Lake jumps out of his seat and dashes to his mother. He holds her back with some effort, then glances back, irritation obvious on his face. “Alba-san! Sii-tan! Can you leave for a bit?”

“Together?!” snaps Cecily, sounding more incensed. She redoubles her efforts to escape Lake’s grip. “Let me go, Lake!” 

“But Lake-“ Alba starts. 

“I got this!” snaps Lake. “Just don’t make it worse!”

A rough hand wraps around his own in a tight grip and tugs. 

“Let’s go, Hero,” Ros says seriously. “She should calm down once we’re gone.” 

“They’re _holding hands?!_”

“Sii-tan!” complains Lake. 

Ros flashes his brother an unabashed grin. 

“Sorry,” he says insincerely, and then Alba’s getting dragged out the door. 

* * *

“And things were going so well…” Alba groans. He kicks at a rock on the empty, dimly lit street, then sighs. “Do you know what set her off?”

“Oh, of course!” Ros grins and gives him a thumbs up. “I made it happen, after all!”

Alba sputters. “Ros?!”

“She should get used to the idea.” Ros says with a shrug. “Maybe I could’ve been more delicate but-“ he snorts. “She probably wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t shoved it in her face like that.”

“What are you talking about?” asks Alba, frustrated. 

“And Lake might be pissed now, but he’ll thank me later when he gets a little older,” Ros continues dismissively. “Cecily needs to learn that her kids grow up.”

“Can you _explain?_”

Ros glances at Alba and snorts again. “You really don’t know?”

“No, I don’t know why you made your mom mad on purpose,” Alba answers flatly. “But you really shouldn’t have.”

“Oh please, you hypocrite.” Ros smirks, and then he’s leaning in close, too close. 

Alba fails to swallow back an embarrassed blush, and hopes desperately that it’s too dark for Ros to see it. 

“Wh-what do you mean by that?” asks Alba, somehow managing to meet red eyes gazing at him from less than a hands width away. 

“I saw your expression at that start,” Ros says sweetly. “When Cecily said, ‘Sion should be spending his dinners at home.’ You were angry. Let me guess, you thought, _Who do you think you are? It’s not my problem that Sion likes me more than you._” He laughs, shortly and brightly. “So arrogant, Hero, so arrogant.”

Alba’s face gets hotter. “I didn’t think that! Don’t put words in my mouth.”

“Then why wouldn’t you think that?” Ros asks, his lips curving down the slightest bit. 

“H-huh?”

Ros slowly reaches his hand up, and Alba’s breath catches as the other boy caresses his cheek. 

“It’s the truth, after all,” Ros says sweetly. 

“Um.” Alba’s mind was going into overdrive. 

“Though well, I guess the ‘like’ I have for you is different than the ‘like’ I have for her.”

Ros’ hand is still on his cheek. 

His eyes are still staring into his own. 

Alba doesn’t know how to deal with that, so he does what he always does when he doesn’t know how to process what was happening. 

He babbles. 

“Yeah, I do suppose that familial love is different than friendship. It’s hard to even quantitate the two to compare them to each other, I mean, when it comes to my mom and dad-“

“Hero.”

“-I love them, of course, but even between both of them I can’t say-“

“_Hero_,” snaps Ros, and then there’s a hand pinching his cheek. 

It hurts. 

“Ouch!” Alba yelps. 

“Honestly,” says Ros, exasperated, and then Ros is bringing up his other hand to Alba’s face.

There's another pinch, and then Ros is stretching out his cheeks. 

“Mmngph!” Alba slaps at Ros’ arms, but Ros doesn’t let go. 

“Who would bring up _friendship _in a situation like this?” Ros complains, and pinches Alba’s cheeks harder. “You’re really an idiot, Hero.”

“Mnngph?” 

Ros finally lets go, leaving Alba’s cheeks feeling red and stinging. 

“Ros-“ Alba starts, annoyed. 

“-Hey, Hero,” Ros interrupts, his hands shifting to Alba’s shoulders, and Alba falls silent.

(He can’t look away anymore, even if he wanted to.)

Ros continues, “Let’s say that someone always invites someone else for food, and pays for it. Let’s say that that someone invites that someone else to places like fancy restaurants, or cutesy cafés. Now, here’s the question.” Ros smiles. “What would you say their relationship is?”

“Um…” A bead of sweat trickles down Alba’s forehead. “...They’re dating?”

“That’s right! A point to the hero.” Ros leans in even closer, pressing their foreheads together, and Alba blinks rapidly trying to compose himself. Ros breathes, “Now, question two- what have we been doing the past several months?”

“Um,” Alba says, a small flower of hope blooming in his stomach even as his blush won’t dissipate. “Um,” he repeats, louder. 

Ros is staring at him expectantly, with hope, with… nervousness?

Alba swallows and reaches his arms out, wraps them around Ros’ back in a soft embrace. 

Ros’ eyes widen, the nervousness disappearing, and with it, so does Alba’s hesitation. 

“Um…” he says a final time. “Dating?”

Ros’ whole face lights up, and ah- so he can make a lovely face like that even if he wasn’t thinking about sweets. 

“...Correct,” Ros says softly. 

Alba swallows again, his mouth feeling all too dry. “...You like me, Ros? Like… like-like?”

“Like-like,” Ros repeats mockingly, and his all-too-familiar sneer is back on his face. “We’re not kids, Hero.”

(_We’re _not kids. The simple sentence destroys the dam of denials Alba had built up in his head.)

“I mean, um.” Alba flushes harder. It’s hard to find his words with Ros still so close, his forehead still pressed against his own. “_I _love you, so…”

He’s briefly rewarded with the sight of Ros turning tomato red before Ros shoves his face into Alba’s shoulders, his hands falling down to his side. 

“...Ros?” Alba says tentatively. After a moment of hesitation, he reaches a hand up and gently threads it into Ros’ hair. 

Ros doesn’t stop him. He just mumbles something unintelligible. 

“I didn’t catch that,” Alba says, apologetic. 

Ros leans back up, and while his face is still obviously flushed, it seems a little more manageable now. 

“I _said_,” Ros says with a scowl, “I like you too, Trashba.”

“Trashba?! Where did that come from?!”

“Everyone calls you that, Hero,” Ros says primly. “Keep up.”

“This is a horrible confession…” Alba mutters, a little mournfully. 

“Take it or leave it.”

Alba lets out a little laugh, and can’t help but smile fondly at Ros, despite everything. “I take it, of course.”

Ros glances to the side, his face turning redder. 

“...Good,” he says, then coughs once. “Anyways,” he continues, more haughtily, “I’m expecting some very fancy chocolates for Valentine’s, Hero. If it isn’t at least Godiva, don’t even bother.”

Alba smiles indulgently. “Okay.”

“But I want handmade chocolates too!” Ros exclaims, turning back to face Alba. “I’m sure they’ll taste horrible, but it’ll be funny knowing you wasted your time and effort.”

“Okay,” repeats Alba, equally indulgent. 

“...And,” Ros says after a pause, his cheeks still flushed. “I’ll try to find something you’ll like too, Hero.”

Alba’s smile spreads wider, until it almost hurts, but he feels so happy he can’t stop, won’t stop. 

“Okay,” he says a final time, and he’d be embarrassed at how besotted he sounded, if it weren’t for Ros obviously gazing at him with just as much fondness. Despite Ros’ best attempts to hide it. 

Alba squeezes tighter, and Ros lets out a loud, exasperated sigh. 

“Don’t be so clingy,” Ros says with a sneer. 

(But then he reaches out to squeeze Alba back, and the words have no bite.)

**Author's Note:**

> as I was re-reading this before posting I realized all my albatross fics are literally the same but whatever I'm like 20% of my readership I can write what I want dammit.


End file.
